Page 48 of Arctic Titans of Northwood U: Volume 1

My happiness went out like a candlelight on a breeze when I turned away from the lovebirds and was face to face with the Breakers’ captain and my professional rival. “Jonah,” I said sourly.

“Riley,” he replied, mimicking my tone for laughs. His satellite friend detached and drifted into the mass. “Whatcha drinking?”

“Not arsenic, I’m sad to say,” I admitted.

“Mm. That saddens us all. Still considering hockey?” He was expressionless as he spoke, his deep brown gaze reminiscent of another brown look I loved receiving. Fuck. They actually looked a little alike. And the resemblance made me want to stick around and hear this asshole out.

“Last I checked, the Titans are leading by two games, my nemesis.” I pressed the edge of the plastic cup to my lips and smirked as I took a sip.

“Beginner’s luck. You are a beginner, are you not? You play like one.” The cheeky smile he shared made it safe to laugh. “Come. They have better beer in the back.”

“What’s wrong with Bud Light?” I protested.

Jonah shot me a look of pure contempt. “Same thing that’s wrong with your technique. It’s bland, unoriginal, and falls flat.”

“You are, without a doubt, the biggest asshole I’ve ever met,” I said and promptly followed my nemesis to the back of the room where there was a mini fridge stacked with cans of craft beer. I was intrigued.

“It’s just the way I flirt,” he said, cracking his beer open and some sloshing to the floor right away.

I snorted. “Is that what we’re doing? Flirting?” Not that I was interested. Curious? Maybe a tiny little bit. For the fun of it. For the novelty. For the sheer power to distract me for a moment.

“The word on the street is, you’re dating someone already. But also, the word is you’re not.” He shrugged and leaned against the wall, eyes on me without a sign of wavering. “You seem troubled.”

Of all the things I could consider doing, telling Jonah Hamilton about my love life was definitely the least likely to happen. “I’m just suffering from all the attention agents are paying me these days.”

“Oh, you have an agent? Is it the janitor? Did he say he knew a guy who knew a guy?” Jonah laughed.

“If you call this flirting, I’ll bet money you’re still a virgin.” I tried the beer he had given me. It was arsenic free, but it was bitter enough to make me wish it was otherwise. Except, after a couple of sips, it grew on me.

“Virgin?” He threw his head back and roared. “Bottoms love a bad boy, Riley.”

“Whoa, you’re assuming a whole lot there,” I said for playfulness’ sake.

“Yes. Correctly though, am I right?” His smile was so self-satisfied that I had to roll my eyes. And concede that he was right. Dammit. It only made him laugh louder. “Tell me about those agents. Are they really flocking around you?”

“They sure like a winner,” I said. “But don’t worry. Your time will come, too.” When he was silent, feigning emotional wounds and a broken heart, I sighed. “I’ve had three offers so far. Not exactly the craziest, but they’re solid guys. Manning, Hawke, Richards.”

“Manning,” Jonah said with raised eyebrows. “Why are you even thinking about it?”

Because he’ll represent the man who broke my heart. I shrugged. “Hawke is brilliant. He represents Nate Partridge and I’m sure he’ll scoop my winger, Beckett, as soon as Beckett’s a little more seasoned.”

“Nate’s famous because he’s Nate, not because Hawke made anything out of him. The first two teams Partridge played for were a travesty.” Jonah said matter-of-factly.

“And the reason he climbed the ranks,” I said in a tone that all but suggested a big, ‘Duh.’

“I mean, if you wanna risk capturing that lightning, be my guest. Nothing helps me fall asleep as well as seeing you flat on your ass.” He laughed a little. “I’m not here to give you career advice, but…”

“Right,” I interrupted. “You’re here to flirt. Great job so far.”

He winked and I rolled my eyes. The thing was, the smallest spark of something that might turn into interest kindled in me. And it was quickly drowned out with sadness that this wasn’t Cameron I was bickering with. “And what about Richards?” Jonah asked.

“A good choice. Steady. Well connected. Respected.” I ran out of things to say about Richards.

Jonah, however, did not. He ticked them on his fingers. “Old-school. Irrelevant. Outdated. Well overdue for retirement. You’re looking at a trophy of another time, my friend. He would have done wonders for your dad.”

“My dad is a doctor,” I said bitterly.

“Congratulations to the world. So happy for him.” The nonchalant way he spoke made me laugh and I buried that laughter in the can of craft beer. Beneath the bitterness of the hops was a strong aroma of cranberries and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.